Prejudice

A Disney trip is not for the weak. In the section titled "The Vacation that Fights Back," the Unofficial Guide to Walt Disney World writes "Visiting Disney World requires levels of industry and stamina more often associated with running marathons." Pedometers regularly rack up over 10 miles of walking every day at Disneyland. And since I (like many others) do the doubling-back-repeatedly strategy to avoid long lines, every full day I've spent in the Disney parks has been marked by 11 to 15 miles of walking. The Unofficial Guide also recommends that families train for this by going for longer and longer walks prior to their arrival at the parks, just so they can have the stamina to see what they want to see.

But the tourists are fighting back against this vacation.

I just returned from Disneyland Anaheim and was struck by the number of people I saw in scooters. A family of four adults and a child zoomed by me, nearly knocking me down on the sidewalk as they sped towards their restaurant. All four adults were rotund, with no noticeable necks and legs that came to small, clearly under-used feet. One scooter had a very large round child on a lap, clearly learning the ways of a life of not walking. Inside the park, scooters sometimes seemed so prevalent that it felt like a scene out of Wall-E.

It's hard not to feel a little prejudiced. Just walk a few blocks, I would think resentfully. It's not like you can't use some exercise. After two days and 24 miles of Disney, my feet and legs ached and it felt like I was paying a price that these scooter people somehow were exempt from. They went everywhere I went - in stores, in restaurants, on rides. To deepen the wound, they didn't even have to stand in line at Disneyland, which was built before the Americans with Disabilities Act was instated in 1990 and had narrow lines that didn't accommodate wheelchairs and electric vehicles. They just scooted up to the ride and got a hand-written pass that told them when to return. Then they zoomed off to shop or eat or just sit in the shade until their return window came up. Meanwhile, I had to stand in line, being told by friendly yet firm cast members to get off from sitting on the railing to rest my feet.

A family gets their special-access pass from a Cast Member.

I felt resentment - oh yes. And laid on the judgement heavily, at least in my own head. These lazy people should just get off their fat bums and suck it up like the rest of us. Sore feet is part of the experience, and if they're too lazy to walk it maybe they shouldn't be here.

But then I started talking to them, and immediately and with much shame I realized how incredibly prejudiced I had been.

People are on scooters because it makes it possible for them to be in the park with their family. Weight doesn't just make walking more work, but often exacerbates existing conditions and comes with its own host of other physical ailments that make even a mellow 5-mile walking day something of an impossibility. It's not even all about weight. Arthritis, back problems, even something as simple as chafing will keep you from keeping up with your teenagers. One woman in her 60's lamented to me that she can't sit or stand for any length of time because of her back. So she drives the scooter, and then sometimes switches out and lets one of her grandkids drive it while she walks.

And once I started talking to people, I started to see them. Actually see them, not just with my prejudices. Young and old, overweight and thin, in groups of friends or families or even on their own. Enjoying the park, just as I was, finding ways around their limitations. Limitations I was lucky enough to not understand. I wondered what limitations put them in scooters, and then reminded myself that it didn't matter.

I left this trip with a sense of humility and awe at what we've managed to achieve as a society. Certainly America has issues with its weight, and this is something we'll need to figure out before we can get our health care costs under control. But we have also managed to pass laws and build systems that allow people to stay together and experience a physically demanding park despite their own disabilities. I'm awed by the silver-haired grandmother keeping up all day with her grandkids, by the ride designers who have made it possible for a paraplegic to hang-glide on Soarin', by the cast members of Aladdin who thought it was a good idea to have a woman in a wheelchair dancing along with everyone else on stage a la Glee. I'm awed by the spirit and cohesiveness of families that figure out how to stay together on a 10-mile park day despite crippling arthritis.

I hope the humility is something I remember next time my "J" side kicks in with a rude prejudice. It's so easy to just assume and blame when that healthy-looking young man takes the handicap parking space at the gym. But it might just be time for me to get off my lazy ass.